


Criminal

by Whymsical



Series: in this universe and the next [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 2P Hetalia, Alternate Universe - Human, Crimes & Criminals, Guns, Happy Ending tho, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Policeman England, minor depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:46:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22744228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whymsical/pseuds/Whymsical
Summary: Arthur read the top of the file again.Allen Jones. Known as Al. Dark reddish-brown hair, red eyes. Sunglasses. 5' 10. 180 pounds of arrogance and evasiveness.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Series: in this universe and the next [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1175639
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot is a request that I did for someone on deviantArt a while back. It's a criminal AU with England and 2P America (I thought he would be more suited for the role than 1P America.) Enjoy~!
> 
> 15/02/2020- I'm splitting up the collection this was a part of for ease of access and tagging of each story.

Arthur Kirkland took yet another sip of tea as he stared at the file folder sitting on his desk. The twenty-five year old Englishman had been on the police force for over four years and was considered one of the best officers there. He had thought he's seen pretty much everything the city could throw at him, but this...this was something else entirely. Arthur read the name again.

Allen Jones. Known as Al. Dark reddish-brown hair, red eyes. Sunglasses. 5' 10. 180 pounds of arrogance and evasiveness.

He had numerous charges of theft (usually auto or motorcycle) along with a few accounts of assault and battery (almost all of those were tied in with the names of other prominent criminals). He had first come to the attention of the police about six months ago, at the site of a particularly bloody and brutal beating, where a baseball bat full of rusty nails was found alongside the victim. The week after the incident, the bat was stolen right out of the evidence locker, with a note left in its place saying how it was going back to its owner. The man had been identified as Al Jones two and a half months ago, but he still evaded capture.

Arthur had been the officer placed in charge of that file, and by now the case had pretty much taken over his life. (At least he was single, so there was no one to complain or nag at him for the fact.) The Englishman had dropped all other cases and files he was working on to focus on Al Jones, but all of his efforts yielded fruitless results. Nine times Arthur had found Al's location and gone after him, and nine times the American had vanished like smoke.

The officer was left frustrated but with an even bigger conviction to catch the man. Now he was getting close to finding him again, and he'd sent some of the newer officers to check out the place of his suspicions.

"Officer Kirkland." The radio on his desk crackled to life. "Officer Kirkland, Jones has been spotted. We confirm your location. Copy."

Arthur started and tore his eyes from the papers. "I copy. Thank you. Withdraw to First Street and wait there."

Slipping the radio into its holder at his belt, Arthur closed the folder, loaded his gun, and strode purposefully from his office. It took him fifteen minutes to get to the building, an abandoned warehouse near the outskirts of town. Like the younger officers, he parked on First Street- a block away.

"You're certain he's there?" Arthur asked as he got out.

Officers Raivis and Eduard nodded. "His motorcycle's there, and the neighbours reported a figure looking like him walking around last night and early this morning." Eduard informed him.

"Looking like him?" Arthur raised an impressive eyebrow.

"Dark hair with a single strand sticking up, either dark brown or black bomber-type jacket, and a bat with what looked like nails stuck in it," Eduard read from the report in his hands.

Arthur nodded. "How many entrances?"

"Two, one main and one back."

"Right. I'm going in. One of you cover the front, the other the back. Don't actually go in unless I call."

"Arthur, are you sure you want to go in alone?"

The Englishman's eyes hardened. "I will catch him."

Eduard gave a brisk nod of his own and pulled Raivis away, vanishing around the corner. Arthur checked his gun and set off himself, in the opposite direction. He reached the entrance to the warehouse and slowed, his guard rising. After making sure the coast was clear, he entered the lot, staying by the fence and keeping his steps silent.

Sure enough, there was a big black and red motorcycle parked by one of the doors. Arthur had always thought it was stolen as well, but there were no theft reports for a motorcycle of that description. He shook a few strands of blond hair out of his eyes as he stepped ever closer, the dead grass crunching faintly beneath his boots. He made his way carefully to the door, which he managed to open without a sound, and peered in.

There was nothing.

Literally nothing. The warehouse was completely empty on the inside. It was dark too, with only sparse areas of light where the sunlight shined through small windows near the roof. The little light that did get in illuminated an empty floor, without even any old boxes or crates to mark what the warehouse had once held

 _This is where he's been?_ Arthur thought to himself. _I find that a little hard to believe. There's nothing here._

But the motorcycle was outside, which meant that Al would have to come back for it eventually. So Arthur found himself a hidden little alcove with a view of both the interior and exterior of the building and settled down to wait. He radioed to his back up that they could relax a bit (while still keeping a sharp eye out) because it might be a long wait and then proceeded to take his own advice.

Half an hour passed, and nothing happened.

A full hour, and still nothing moved.

Suddenly, Arthur felt a presence behind him, but before he could turn or even react everything went black. He woke sometime later and found himself sitting, tied to a chair in the middle of the warehouse. As the world blurred into focus, he stared confusedly at a pile of his police gear sitting on the ground in front of him. His gun was there, but his handcuffs were missing, a mystery soon solved when he tried to move and felt cool metal pressing against his wrists.

"Eeeeey, and he's awake!"

Arthur's eyes snapped to the left at the voice and settled on a relaxed figure lounging on another chair. Emerald green bored into deep red. "You."

Al grinned, showing off his missing tooth. "Me."

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?"

"Well I saw you sittin' there on my doorstep, so I thought I'd be polite and shit and invite ya in."

Arthur scowled at him. "Release me at once. You're under arrest."

"Can't do that, Artie. And 'sides, you're not really in much of a position to make demands, hmm?" The smile twisted into more of a smirk.

"How do you know my name?"

Al lifted a card from the pile and played idly with it. "This little baby, and the fact you tossed your work aside to focus on me." The smirk grew. "That was real sweet, Artie."

"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped. "What do you want with me?"

"I wanted to meetcha, since you're so taken with me." Al winked.

Arthur felt a blush creeping up onto his cheeks. "I am not, you're merely a nuisance!"

"If I was 'merely a nuisance'," Al mimicked Arthur's accent here. "Then ya wouldn't have ignored everyone else."

Arthur's scowl deepened and he fumed silently, mind racing. All of his weapons and defense items had been stripped from him, leaving him in nothing but his clothes. Al hadn't done anything to him yet, but there was no telling about the future and if Arthur was going to get out of the situation, he would have to be smart about it.

Al was content to sit and watch him, his face never changing.

"What do you want?" Arthur finally asked.

"Already told ya."

"Bullshit, there has to be something else."

"I already got what I wanted."

"...Pardon?"

Al got up and approached him, digging around in the pocket of his jacket. He withdrew a shard of a mirror from there. There was some blood around the edges, but other than that it still functioned well.

There was a sharp intake of breath as Arthur spotted a large and distinctive red mark high up on his neck. " _What?!_ " he practically shrieked.

The American snickered.

"You little-" Arthur stopped speaking and thought for a moment. He could possibly use this to his advantage. "Why?" he asked, his tone neutral, with just a hint of curiosity in it.

Al cocked his head to the side. "Why not? You were moanin' a bit there, so you must've enjoyed it a bit," he replied, almost smugly.

Arthur caught the smugness, and it pissed him off. He had to be calculating and careful though, so he didn't let it show. "I didn't even feel it," he said instead, more reproach than anger in his voice. "I was _out cold_ as you recall."

"Wha-" Al looked confused for a few moments, but then his red eyes widened and he grinned. "Sooooo?" he asked almost challengingly, eyes bright.

Arthur thought for a moment, weighing his options a final time in his mind. "Perhaps I'd like to feel it," he eventually said, lowering his voice. He tilted his chin down and looked up at Al from beneath his eyelashes, shifting his body slightly against the chair in an innocently hesitant yet lustfully wanting manner.

Al's eyes were still wide as his grin grew, and Arthur swore the American looked like an excited puppy in that moment. Then he composed himself and leaned forward hungrily.

The English officer had sparked an interest in him the moment Al had heard that he'd thrown away all other cases to focus on him. That event had also stirred a feeling of possessiveness in him, one that he had been closer and closer to giving in to. What had previously been a sort of a lifestyle now became a game, and all those chases had only intensified the feelings inside of him. This was the first time Al had the chance to capture Arthur, and he'd allowed that possessiveness to take over.

And here Arthur was asking for more.

Al kissed him roughly first, crashing their lips together and forcing his tongue into the smaller man's mouth. His tongue piercing clinked lightly against Arthur's teeth as he explored his mouth. His weight pressed Arthur firmly into the chair, and while the blond squirmed slightly, he didn't try to throw Al off or anything.

Arthur's tongue flicked back in retaliation as he struggled a bit to get into a comfortable position. When that was achieved he focused back on the kiss. He wasn't particularly attracted to Al sexually or romantically but he admitted to himself that Al was good, and the dark-haired criminal's apparent attraction to him helped him in this moment.

After a few seconds more Al drew back and got to work on a new hickey, this one on the other side of Arthur's neck. The Englishman's breath was hot against his upper cheek, and it only served to turn him on more. Occasionally Arthur would let out a soft moan, and Al grinned in triumph at each one. Then Arthur moaned louder than usual, which served to mask the sound of breaking bones. Al heard the faint snap, but his pleasure-clouded mind dismissed it.

But Arthur was free seconds later. He couldn't do anything about the ropes binding his ankles, but he was out of the handcuffs and that was better than nothing. His broken hand stung and burned horribly, but he'd dealt with worse pain before so he ignored it.

Once he was satisfied with the new hickey, Al moved back to kiss him full on the mouth again. He was more gentle this time, using his tongue and teeth to tease Arthur's lower lip before actually going in. Arthur used the opportunity to make his move. He ever so slowly started bringing his arms up and around. Al noticed the movement after a few seconds, but by then Arthur was moving quickly to overbalance them and send them crashing to the floor. It took a bit of manoeuvring inhibited by his still-bound legs, but he managed to somewhat straddle the American while pinning his arms down with his uninjured one.

"As I said before," Arthur said, slightly out of breath but quickly regaining it. "You're under arrest."

Al looked genuinely surprised for about three seconds, but then he was smirking again. "Yer feisty. S'hot." He easily broke Arthur's grip and flipped them around, so that he was straddling the Englishman. "It was a nice try, I'll give ya that." He grabbed both of Arthur's hands in a strong grip and raised them above the blond's head.

Arthur grunted slightly and his face screwed up in pain when his broken hand was put under pressure, but he refused to make a sound.

Al noticed immediately and mentally swore. He released the injured hand and caught it back by the forearm, well away from the broken parts, his face not changing the entire time. "What to do with you?" he murmured sardonically.

"Let me go," Arthur spat out through gritted teeth, thrashing around in earnest now.

"Mmm, nope. Can't do that." Al was disappointed that Arthur didn't feel anything back for him except the desire to catch him, but that would change. The American vowed that he'd win over Arthur's heart eventually.

But for now, he had to run. Their little meeting was over. He knocked the police officer out once more and tied him up in the chair again, this time using only rope and avoiding the broken hand. He'd examined the limb and wrapped it up in a shitty makeshift bandage prior to the tying, and now he stepped back to admire his work. He tossed the handcuffs onto the pile of Arthur's things, but took out the photo of the Englishman from his wallet and slipped it into his pocket. Planting a final, gentle kiss on Arthur's lips, he turned and walked away.

* * *

Arthur came to when someone shook his shoulder. At first he expected for it to be Al again, but it was Eduard's face that swam into view. The Englishman blinked and everything became even sharper. Eduard was saying something, but it took a few seconds for the sound to register.

"...rthur? Arthur? Are you hurt anywhere? What happened?"

"Jones," Arthur replied groggily. "Where's Jones?"

"Jones is gone, he escaped. But what did he do to you? Are you hurt anywhere?" While he was speaking, Eduard expertly undid the roped binding the green-eyed blond to the chair.

As soon as he was free Arthur staggered up, wincing as his hand was suddenly set in motion. He noticed the other officer's eyes widening at it, but he waved them off. "He had me handcuffed, but I got out of it."

"And he let you bind it?"

"No..." Arthur frowned the more he thought about it. The only reasonably explanation was that Al had wrapped it up for him, but why would he have done that? Then again, why had he left the hickeys in the first place?

"...Arthur?"

"Where is he?"

"He's gone. The motorcycle is gone too." Raivis noticed Arthur's eyes darkening in anger and hurried on with his explanation. "H-He was really quiet about it- we don't know exactly what happened, but he just burst through the side of the warehouse on his motorcycle." He pointed.

Arthur followed his gesture to where a previously boarded up window had been broken through. The new light shining through illuminated the interior, and the Englishman used the opportunity to glance around for some clues. He spotted a steel ladder attached to the wall on the opposite side and by the main door. Following the rungs up he could see a small platform between two of the roof beams- an ideal hiding spot. _No one ever looks up._ Arthur cursed softly to himself, but at least he knew where Al had been hiding.

There was nothing else to be found, so after a few more minutes the officers left- once Arthur gathered up all his equipment. Then, Eduard drove Arthur to the hospital to get his hand properly examined before dropping him off at the station. And Arthur was left once more at his desk, staring at Alfred F. Jones's record.

He reported that day's incident as well. Of all the chases, it had been the most humiliating. Not only had he been captured and bound with his own handcuffs, but he'd instigated a (passionate) kiss with a criminal. Luckily no one at the station either saw or commented on the hickeys. Not that he didn't _enjoy_ it, but... He shook his head to clear such thoughts. He wanted to catch Al and arrest him, not shag- err, socialise with him and lose him every encounter.

So Officer Arthur Kirkland took a sip of freshly brewed tea and, ignoring that tiny spark of warmth and doubt in his chest, set out to track down Al once more.


	2. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the second part to Criminal! Because I loved this AU and couldn't get enough of it. Arthur gets another lead about Al and follows it.

Arthur sighed when he saw the gift on his desk. A bouquet of dark red roses in a black vase was sitting atop it, as there had been every morning for the past two weeks. By now the corner of his office was bursting with bouquets, some already dying while others still a vibrant red. Arthur's colleagues teased him about it, but he brushed their words off.

Gritting his teeth, the police officer reached out to examine today's note. _Hey babe, I miss ya. What do you say 'bout a date? Don't worry Artie, we'll see each other soon._ Arthur shoved the note back into the bouquet and moved the vase to the corner. He knew it had been Al. It was always Al.

The encounter in the warehouse had happened a little over three weeks ago, and Arthur's wrist was healing nicely. For the first week there was nothing and the Englishman could focus on his fruitless search for the criminal, but then the flowers had started showing up. He figured it was some attempt at flirting with him, but he ignored it. He wanted to take Al Jones down out of justice, nothing more.

Once Arthur's desk was clear he sat down behind it and read through Al's file once more, as was his habit every morning in hopes of managing to find that one piece of information that would allow him to finally capture the criminal. By now he had every detail of the file memorised, though that didn't help anything. A few minutes later he raised his eyes from the paper and sighed, rubbing at them. There was nothing and it pissed him off because he knew the American was _taunting_ him, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Mr. Kirkland?" Eduard's voice came softly from the doorway.

"Yes?" Arthur looked up at him, and he realised he must have been glaring because the younger officer took a small step back. He softened his gaze. "What is it?"

"Jones was spotted in the park. He-"

" _What?!_ " Arthur stood and grabbed his gun, loading it. "What's going on? Tell me now."

"I was just about to, sir," Eduard said calmly, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. "He was spotted by some civilians. They said he was just sitting on a bench and fiddling with something- that he appeared to be waiting for someone. The people in the park cleared out, of course, but someone else just called to say he was still there."

"Right. This is what we do to catch him, and we _will_ catch him today. I will go on my own at first, try and talk to him." Arthur raised a hand to stop Eduard's protests. "No, he won't hurt me- that much I know. You'll follow me shortly after, _silently_ , with sirens off, and cover every available entrance. He must not be allowed to escape again." With that, he swept from the room.

* * *

The park wasn't too far away, and it took him about five minutes to get there in his car. He parked a block away and walked the rest of the way cautiously. The park was deserted; he walked down multiple paths until he finally spotted the American on a bench under a tree.

Al must have heard him because he glanced up and grinned. "Hey babe, finally here. You alone?"

"Don't call me that," Arthur snapped, stopping a good distance away from him. "And yes, I am alone."

"Did ya get the roses and the note?" Al asked. He slid the object he was playing with into his pocket and Arthur saw it was a photograph, but he didn't see of who. "Told ya we'd meet up soon."

"Those were entirely unnecessary," Arthur told him sharply. "I suppose I don't even have to tell you you're under arrest?"

"Aww, are we gonna go through the warehouse incident again?" In a flash Al was up and at Arthur's side, an arm slipping around the Englishman's waist while the other hand expertly slid the gun out and tossed it out of reach. "Artie..." he purred.

Arthur had stepped back a bit, astounded by the criminal's speed, but now he froze upon feeling Al's breath ghost across the back of his neck. "U-Unhand me this instant," he demanded, his own breath shuddering as he felt Al's warm lips press against his cheek. "I could have sexual assault tacked on to your list of offenses."

"Mmm..." Al suddenly spun him around and peered deep into his eyes. After a few moments of Arthur's increasing fidgeting, he leaned down to kiss him firmly, but gently, his hands moving to Arthur's back as support. When he pulled away, he was grinning. "Nah you can't, cuz you like it," he said confidently.

Arthur narrowed his eyes and stared at Al with shock. Sure his body reacted to it, and he didn't quite mind the feeling, it was so absolutely _incredible_ , but that didn't mean he liked it. Did it? "I-I could still tell them it was, not that you need anything to help your case."

Al's grin widened almost lecherously and he leaned on Arthur a bit more. "So ya do like me!" he crowed, victory bells ringing in his head. "Was it the roses? The pick-up lines?"

"Stop that!" Arthur tried to move away from him, to no avail. "I don't like you, you're nothing but a common criminal!" he snapped.

A flash of hurt swept through Al's eyes, though it was quickly masked by anger. His grip on Arthur tightened until the Englishman thought he was going to break something. Then he abruptly let go, shoving Arthur away. "Just a common fucking criminal, yeah?" he growled, moving back to the bench to pick up his bat. "Maybe I should treat you like a common criminal fucking would?"

Arthur stared up at him in horror, body frozen. He couldn't move, couldn't do anything, as Al advanced on him. He regretted his earlier words, having seen the flash of hurt, but right now he was more concerned about the approaching man. "A-Al-"

The bat slammed into the ground about a foot from Arthur's head. Al felt slightly bad seeing the man flinch, but his anger overrode everything else. He had been so excited that Arthur felt _something_ for him, and then he'd gone and said that. "Have fun with your chase, Officer," he sneered, moving away. Even in his angered state he couldn't bring himself to hurt Arthur.

The Englishman just lay on the ground, shell-shocked, and watched the criminal walk away. He didn't know if the others had arrived yet, but there was literally nothing he could do now to buy anymore time. His body gradually relaxed and he sat up, eyes fixed on the hole next to him. For a moment, Arthur had felt sure he was going to die there.

"Arthur, we got him," Eduard's voice came over the radio, startling Arthur out of his thoughts. "We have Jones. We're taking him to the station. Are you okay there?"

Arthur scrambled to get his radio. "I'm fine. You have him? You really have him?"

"Yup. Congratulations, Officer."

"Finally..." Arthur breathed, looking down at the silent radio in his lap. He felt as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders. Then he recalled the red eyes, bright with hurt for a moment, and another weight settled over him, this one perhaps even worse.

But he had a prisoner to see to. Brushing aside his previous thoughts he stood and walked out of the park. At the station he was congratulated by all the other officers currently in the room; they all knew how long he'd been on the case. By the time he made his way down to the holding cells Al had been searched and put in one of them.

"Uhh, Arthur?" Eduard stopped him before he actually entered to see the American. "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Yes, what's wrong?" Arthur frowned slightly.

Eduard led him to the evidence room. He rummaged around the bag with Al's name on it and eventually withdrew what looked like a slip of paper. "He had this."

"What is it?" Arthur took it and was shocked to find his own face staring back at him. "That's the- the missing photograph... _What?_ "

"It was in his pocket. No one else knows about it, but why-"

"I don't know," Arthur said sharply. His hand closed around the photograph and he turned away. "No one _will_ know about this, yes?"

"No, not if you don't want anyone to know," Eduard promised.

"Good. He's in the holding cells?" At Eduard's nod he swept to the corridor with the cells. Al was in the last cell on the left, lounging on the little bed in the corner. "What the hell is this?" he asked, showing Al the photograph.

Al looked up and grinned lazily, though it was a bitter smile. "You lied, Artie. You weren't alone."

"I was alone when I came," Arthur snapped back. "But what is this?" He thrust the photograph through the bars in rage so Al could better see it. "Answer me, Jones."

In a flash Al was up and had snatched the photo back, moving too fast for the officer to react. When he had the photo he moved back to the bed. "Are ya really surprised, babe?" He planted a kiss on the surface of the photo, right were Arthur's lips would be.

"Oi!" Arthur automatically reached after him, but it was too late. He averted his eyes at the obscene gesture. "S-Stop that, you're defiling it!"

"What, you jealous?" Al lifted his head and grinned again, looking more like himself that time. "I can easily fix that."

"I am not," Arthur replied instantly, glaring. "Why did you have it in the first place?"

"You're hot," Al said, shrugging easily. "And sexy. I got a thing for hot British police guys. Anyone ever tell you yer ass looks hella fine in those pants?"

"I'm English," Arthur muttered, cheeks flaming from Al's words.

Al slipped the photograph into his pocket and rose again, walking over to the bars. "Hey, c'mon." He reached out when Arthur backed away again. "Lemme show you what I can really do."

"Al, I..." Arthur was tempted. The part of him attracted to the criminal was _so_ tempted. "I can't I am an officer, and you are a prisoner to be put on trial."

"You called me Al..."

"What?"

"Usually you call me 'Jones'," Al said, his voice oddly soft. "Look, can't ya fulfill a dead man's wish? Kinda like the last meal shit, but I wanna kiss you. Reeeaally kiss you."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Arthur asked incredulously. "You aren't dead."

"I ain't stupid, Artie." Al shrugged noncommittally. "I fucked a lot of shit up. I was young...er, and pissed off. I know my crimes, and so do you. Break-ins, vandalism, stealing shit, killing- sure, those fuckers were scum and annoying as hell and better off pushin' fucking daisies, but the jury won't give a flying fuck. They're probably gonna kill me off, say it's what I deserve, that prison's too good for me. So c'mon."

Arthur looked at him, thinking hard. He did know Al's crimes- he practically had the dates and all the gruesome details memorised. "No, A- Jones." He turned and walked away.

* * *

Later that night Al was laying on his bed and just about to doze off when there were footsteps heard down the hall, and they were coming closer. He opened his eyes to see a familiar figure pause outside his cell. "...Artie?"

"Get over here you absolute sodding devil," Arthur hissed at him.

"What?" Al stood up hesitantly and walked over to him.

Once he was in reach, Arthur yanked him forward and crashed their lips together. He felt the American stiffen against him at first, but an instant later he had relaxed and was pressing back against the officer eagerly. His tongue darted out and swept across Arthur's lips, nudging them open. The piercing felt just as alien to the officer as the first time they had kissed.

Al eagerly explored Arthur's mouth. It tasted as good as the list time, like he remembered it to be. He felt Arthur's tongue flitting against his own in response to his movements, concentrated upon the little ball. He smirked into the kiss when he realised the officer was heavily interested in it, and he reached his hands through the bars to tangle his fingers gently into Arthur's hair.

Eventually the need for air broke them apart, though they stayed close to each other, their foreheads almost touching. Panting slightly, Arthur looked at Al and was somewhat surprised to see pure, raw happiness in the criminal's eyes. He sensed that it wasn't a frequent emotion to cross Al's face and sure enough, even as he was looking, most of the rawness was hidden by his usually cocky mask.

"So," Al breathed, grinning broadly. "Did my _devilish_ body send ya running back?"

"No, idiot. I couldn't very well kiss a prisoner with the cameras pointed at us," Arthur muttered, his cheeks reddening slightly.

"What's different about now?"

"The camera's on loop."

Al's grin widened. "Oooh, you bein' a _bad boy_ , ain't ya?"

"Shut up."

"Shut me up then," Al challenged. "Otherwise I'll just keep talk-mmph."

Arthur had leaned forward and pressed his lips against Al's, effectively shutting him up. He felt Al try to deepen it and then pulled back. "Would you like to know your fate?"

"My fate?" Al burst out laughing. "You sound like a wizard or some shit." Almost absentmindedly, he started stroking Arthur's hair.

"I mean what's going to happen to you." Arthur rolled his eyes but leaned into the touch.

"Yeah, sure. You know it?"

"Yes. The county jail is full and they don't have a cell for you at the moment, so you're staying here until your trial," Arthur explained. "The trial will be in three days, and I've been assigned to be your guard. After that...whatever the court decided will come to pass."

"They're gonna kill me."

"You don't know that, Jones. They might give you a life sentence," Arthur reasoned, the coming trial suddenly much more frightening than it had been before.

"Nah." Al gently shook his head. "They'll kill me. You'll see." He saw pain and fear minutely appearing in Arthur's eyes and he chuckled. "So ya do care, huh?"

"I told you; you're a devil. You've made me at least care for you, you utter bastard," Arthur muttered, tilting his head down to hide his red cheeks.

Al's fingers tightened in his hair, keeping his head in place, and one of his hands slipped down to cup Arthur's chin and turn his head back up. The soft, pure expression was back on his face, and he pressed a kiss to Arthur's nose. "Finally..." he breathed. "But they're still gonna kill me."

"Well what do you want me to do about it?" Arthur asked, wrinkling his nose slightly during the kiss. "I can't very well appeal for your innocence."

"I can be a real fucking romantic, you know," Al suddenly said. "As cheesy as ya want. Flowers, chocolates, romantic dates, the whole shebang," he whispered, staring deep into Arthur's eyes. "Whatever you want."

"Why are you telling me this?" Arthur had a sinking feeling Al was going to propose some sort of crazy scheme, and the feeling deepened when he realized there was a good chance he would go along with it.

"If they decide to kill me, you're gonna have to be the one to do it," Al said, his mind racing with different plots and plans.

"What?" Arthur tried leaning back again.

"Yeah." Al quickly kissed him to calm him down. "I'm gonna choose a shooting, and then you're gonna stand up and say you wanna do it," he explained.

"But why me?"

Al grinned wickedly. "Because you can't. You _can't_ kill me."

"You don't know that," Arthur shot back at him.

"Yeah I do. Look at me right now, and tell me you could kill me."

The English officer looked at him. Al was staring back, eyes wide- not quite innocent but not devious either- and a half smile on his face. Arthur stared for a long time, until finally he sighed and leaned forward to kiss him. "No, I can't," he mumbled into it.

Al kissed back eagerly, and he was smirking triumphantly. "Exactly. Then ya fake my death, sneak me out, and I crash with you."

"It... It won't work, Jones. There-"

"Al."

"What?"

"Please call me Al," the American said.

"All right. Al, then. But still, there's so much that could go wrong. So much still to discuss. Not to mention I'll be harboring a criminal once this is over, _if_ it works."

"Hey. Hey babe, don't worry." Al stroked Arthur's cheek. "I'll think of it, don't you worry. We still got a few days, right?"

"Yes..."

"See? It'll be fine. As you know, I'm an ace at getting away."

"Indeed I do know," Arthur muttered, shooting him a soft glare. He pulled away slightly, and lifted a hand to place it over Al's. "I can't imagine you all of a sudden turning into a perfect little angel if this does work."

Al snorted. "Nah. Imma devil, remember?" He lifted his hand away from the Englishman's hair and instead gripped Arthur's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Doesn't mean I gotta screw around though."

"Really now."

"Yeah." Al squeezed Arthur's hand lightly, running a thumb over his wrist. He was glad to see it healing nicely. "Call me a sap, but I think I love you. If you get me outta here, I'll be quiet as a mouse. I'd just be happy to live with you in peace.

Arthur blinked and his mouth opened a bit in surprise. "That's...sweet, love." He squeezed Al's hand back, glancing down the corridor. "I have to go now, it's late and I shouldn't be here. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Sure, babe." Al looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and a smirk. "Do I get a good night kiss, Officer?" he asked innocently.

"You're impossible." Arthur rolled his eyes but leaned in to give him a short but sweet kiss. He then pulled away from the bars and stepped back. "Good night."

"Night, Artie! You'll see, by tomorrow evening I'll have it all planned out," Al said confidently, sauntering back to his bed and laying down.

"I hope so. Good bye." Arthur walked back to his office, gathered up his things, and left the station. It was the simplest thing to distract the security guard at the door so he could unloop the cameras.

* * *

The days to the trial passed by in a flurry. Arthur was immersed back into the flurry of his normal work now that Al was behind bars, though he did stay and talk with him a little during meal times. True to his word the second night Al explained his plan, and the third night was spent convincing the officer to do it after he stormed out immediately after hearing it. Eventually he agreed to do it, but only because the trial was looming over them and there were no other options, except of course Arthur leaving Al to his sentence (which of course he wouldn't do now that he'd accepted his attraction and care for the man).

The trial passed quickly and exactly as Al had said it would. The evidence and testimonies were given, and Al pled guilty. To anyone on the outside it would seem that he was taking credit for his deeds with apparent satisfaction, but both Al and Arthur knew that he was just going according to the plan. After a very short discussion he was indeed found guilty and sentenced to death. Normally people would more be sentenced to incrimination for life, but Al's crimes were so numerous and some so gruesome that the jury decided it would be better to kill him. To protect the greater good of the people, they said, for there was the risk he might escape and continue with his actions. And then it was Arthur's turn to stand.

Biting back the bile in his throat, Arthur rose from his seat and cleared his throat.

The judge looked at him. "Yes, Mr. Kirkland? Do you have anything to add?"

"I would like to request to be the one to carry out Mr. Jones's sentence."

"Why is that?" the judge asked as the rest of the jury murmured amongst themselves.

"Your Honour," Arthur forced out. "I've been chasing this man for months. If I could, I'd like to be the one to finish the job completely."

There was a moment of quiet discussion and then they agreed. Al was quickly taken away back to the cells, and Arthur steeled himself for what was to come. The execution date was set for the day after the trial, and Arthur grew nervous as the hour approached. He visited Al again that night, looping the camera once more.

"I don't like this," he muttered as Al caressed his wrist through the bars. "The situation, the risks, what you've done to me-"

"What I did to you?"

"Yes." Arthur glared. "Me, a distinguished officer, helping a _criminal_ , and all because he bloody charmed his way into my life."

Al laughed. "So I win in the end, eh?"

"Don't remind me, or I might reconsider."

"You wouldn't," Al said confidently, pulling Arthur towards himself for a kiss. When he pulled away he grinned again.

Arthur rolled his eyes at him. "You're lucky I fell for you, Jones," he said sharply. "Now, are you absolutely sure this will work?"

"Babe, babe, don't worry. As long as you do what I told you to, it'll all work out fine."

"And you're sure I have to..."

"Yeah. But don't worry, I can take it. Now get goin' Artie, you gotta be nice and rested for tomorrow." He ran a thumb across Arthur's cheek and then moved away, back to the bed.

The final meal was over with (Al had chosen a simple Caesar salad) and Al was led down to the chamber. He was forced into a black chair and left alone, his only restraints being handcuffs on his wrists. A few floors above him, Arthur was receiving the gun. There was only one bullet, and his superior officer gave the Englishman a brief lecture about what would happen if he were to miss. Arthur assured him he wouldn't, and he was sent down with a nod.

Upon entering, he marched up to Al and lifted the American's chin with his fingers, forcing Al to look up at him. "You're done, Jones," he said, his voice smug. At the same time, unseen, his other hand shot a small injection into the criminal's bloodstream.

Al just grinned, expertly masking his response to the small prick. "Ya know you're gonna miss it, Officer," he purred.

"Not bloody likely," Arthur snapped.

Scowling, he moved away and withdrew the gun. Lifting it so the barrel was pointed at Al's chest, he stared. Al was looking back at him, his red eyes right on Arthur's. The smile was mostly gone from his face, except for the slightest curve of his lips, and his gaze was warm. The officer felt his own scowl lessening, until he was almost smiling as well. Once again, he was struck by the thought that he'd never have been able to kill him. Arthur took a deep breath, aimed, exhaled, and shot.

Al slumped backwards a bit, and Arthur lowered his arm. Moments later, a few other officers burst into the room. They pronounced Al dead, congratulated Arthur, and moved the body away. A doctor performed a quick examination and confirmed the means of Al's death, then he was zipped up in a body bag and carted off to the funeral home.

Arthur accompanied them in the back of the van, and along the way switched out Al's bag for one he had prepared and stowed away beforehand. The bag was dropped off, and the matter was done with. The cheapest burial was simply placing the bag in a plain wooden coffin and burying it. The undertaker wouldn't even look inside of it. Arthur was given the rest of the day off if he needed it for what he had done, and he took the offer.

When there was no one around a few minutes later he went back to the van to transfer Al's body to his own squad car. He didn't have much time left before Al really died, so he quickly gave him the reverse injection and covered him up with a fire blanket he had nicked (he really was becoming a model police officer, wasn't he?).

He got home within ten minutes. After he carried Al up to his apartment as carefully and smoothly as he could manage, he utilized his fair amount of medical training, some books, and the internet to get the bullet out of him. It wasn't the best thing to do, he knew, but Al was a supposedly dead criminal so him showing up at a hospital now wouldn't be a good idea. After bandaging him up, there was nothing he could do but sit and wait until Al hopefully woke up.

* * *

A few months later, Arthur entered his apartment exhausted, and he slumped against the door after he locked it. A few seconds later a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt warm lips on his neck. He leaned into the embrace.

"How do you feel?" he asked softly. "You still shouldn't be up."

"I was bored, and besides, I barely feel it anymore," Al replied, his lips moving up to graze Arthur's ear. "You're tired," he noted, pulling the blond away from the door and to their bedroom.

"I had to finish up some reports." Arthur was practically falling asleep, and he allowed Al to undress him with little resistance.

By now the fuss about Al had long died down. The first weeks after Al had woken and started recovering had been the most tense for Arthur. He was afraid that at any time someone would burst in and find the American and take the both of them away. But he needn't have worried, for Al was a master at staying hidden. Arthur knew himself from the long months spent chasing him, and over time his paranoia lessened slightly.

Police work became harder for him. Falling in love with a criminal had given him a different perspective (especially after Al had told him all the motives for his own crimes), one that made him softer in some aspects, more forgiving. In any case, he was less enthusiastic about cases, and often snappy. He just didn't feel the city atmosphere was good for him anymore and he slowly started to search for jobs in quieter places. He searched harder when he caught Al sneaking out.

He knew the American was bored from having to stay in all the time. One night when he woke to get a drink, Al was gone. Arthur panicked, thinking he had been taken, and he was almost out the door off to search for him when Al entered through the fire escape. After giving a long lecture Arthur calmed down enough for Al to explain that he was just walking around and that he was perfectly fine. Eventually, they retired to bed, Arthur curled around Al tightly.

"We're moving," Arthur announced a few days later.

"What?"

"To England. I've found a job in a small village- well, relatively small- where they were looking for a new police officer."

Al looked up from what he was doing. "Why?"

"We can't stay here! You can't very well live the rest of your life cooped up in here, only sneaking out at night- which I do not condone, by the way," Arthur replied.

"You'd be willing to move all the way back to England for me?" Al grinned and kissed his cheek. "Aww, that's sweet, Artie!"

"I-Idiot, it's not only for you." Arthur looked away. "I need to get away from the city life; it's a bit much for me now. Besides, I'm _from_ England- it's not that big a problem to go back."

"So how will we get there? I can't really travel on commercial flights. You got a plan?"

Arthur hesitated. "No. But I'll figure something out."

"No need," Al told him, grinning again. "I'll take care of it. But you gotta get there legally."

"Wow. Who would have thought, Al Jones, an advocate for legality," Arthur said, smirking.

Al chuckled. "Yeah, but you're into that kind of stuff, _Officer_."

"Oi, hush up, you," Arthur said, rolling his eyes. "But all right. We have to both leave within the month, though."

"No problem, babe," Al assured him.

And true to his word, about a week later, the American had a way. His brother Matt in Canada had a small private plane that he used to deliver lumber sometimes, and he'd be able to fly him either to England or France, depending on the situation. From there, his friends would get him safely to where Arthur was. Arthur expressed some concerns over this plan, but Al assured him it would work and it was the best thing to do.

"All right," Arthur finally said. "I trust you."

"Hell yeah!" Al grinned broadly. "Can we go have awesome victory sex now?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, but agreed. And the next morning, the two started packing for their new life.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos are love, comments are life ^0^


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